I mean, how can you be lost when you know exactly where you are? But we were. We had decided on an afternoon out at an ex stately home near Leeds which is now a museum and park belonging to Leeds City Council. It’s called Lotherton Hall and is about 40 miles from where we live. The weather forecast was good and we fancied a bit of fresh air, so off we went. It’s not somewhere we’ve been before, so I checked the map – north on the A1 to junction 43, turn left onto the M1 but only for one junction then off at 47 and follow the B1217 to the front entrance of the hall. Easy peasy.
So when we got to Junction 43 to discover there IS no left turn onto the M1, our plans were scuppered. A quick re-read of the map and I found an alternative route without much trouble, turned left just where the entrance should have been and went careering off into the wild blue yonder – no entrance to be found. Getting a little frustrated by now, I asked the loved one to U turn back to the last signpost, turned the opposite way, and there it was. If we had gone straight on instead of left, we would have found it. I knew where we were at all times and yet… Continue reading “Lost in Space”→
I’m a bit old fashioned. “No”, I hear you cry, “Not you, Maggibee, surely not…” But one of the things I like is when people name their children old fashioned names, possibly Biblical names, but the full name. So I love to know that Tom can grow up into Thomas, or Becky into Rebecca, for example, and not be saddled in adult life with with no options but to live forever with what is likely to be an inappropriate diminutive. I have always been Margaret. Not Maggie, Madge, Meg or Peggy – Margaret. People have tried to call me other things and I feel they bear the subsequent scars with pride, but Margaret it has always been and Margaret it will stay. Except here, where I am happy to be Maggibee, to differentiate between me and a thousand other online Margarets. Continue reading “Changing my name”→
I thought I’d put this one up in its three stages. I did it for the Diva Challenge last week and was not all that happy with it. Well, now I’m happier. It just looked a bit dull, I suppose, and now it doesn’t.
Alright, ‘fess up, who immediately started humming along with Perry Como when they saw the title of this week’s post? He was one of my mum’s favourites, although way too respectable for me. When I was playing the Beatles, Stones, Who, Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix, she was happily humming along to Perry, Andy Williams, Matt Munro and Kathy Kirby. Although I still bumble along with my old favourites, some of the newer ones have found their way into my mental jukebox, so I sometimes find myself singing along with Pink, the Stereophonics and Muse too. None of this hip hop or rap stuff, though, I am a product of my upbringing and for me foul language is kept to when I’m in extremis and certainly not for song lyrics. Doesn’t look like I’ll ever be down with the homies but I can live with that. Continue reading “Magic Moments”→
Pronounced Fo-be- cue, as in fake barbecue. This was Rachel’s idea, not original, I don’t suppose, but she decided it was her turn to cook and we were having a faubecue. All the food to be cooked and eaten in the house but in the style of a barbecue. (I didn’t like to tell her that there’s another name for it – a meal!) So off she went to buy what she needed. Now bear in mind, this is for five adults and a five year old: steak, gammon steaks, chicken breasts, lamb steaks, sausages, chicken goujons, haloumi, feta, roast peppers, mixed salad, tender leaf salad, potato salad, bread rolls, jacket potatoes and belly pork slices. Suffice it to say, there was enough for a meal the following day and Alex’s dog was happily wagging too. We had food for a week in two days. Oh, and a cream cake, obviously. The loved one and I are on salad for the foreseeable future. Continue reading “Faubecue”→
By the time you read this, of course, the tension will have stopped mounting because the thing I am waiting for will have happened – Ben will be here. He and his mum and dad are coming to stay for a few days and I am getting ridiculously excited. My daughter, his mum, is very like me in some ways, poor girl, and one of those ways is her need to organise everyone, me included. They arrive on Saturday and she already has plans for virtually every hour they are here.
This includes a birthday party for Ben. His birthday is 27th December, but, as it is so near to Christmas he risks losing out by getting to celebrate just once, so, like the Queen, he has an official birthday mid year. The date she has chosen this year is the Sunday they are at our house. She’s not daft is she? We’ve invited family round and we’re praying for good weather so they can play out on the garden, preferably in the paddling pool and tents etc. Food will be buffet style to make things easier ( so they say.) and she has already ordered a cake from a local shop. Continue reading “The tension mounts”→